Page 14

FOURTEEN

LEXI

Riley and I settle into a booth at the back of the diner after a short drive from the arena. We made small talk on the way over, casual conversation about my Pilates class tomorrow morning and what shows he’s been watching.

The restaurant is empty, but Riley still put on a baseball hat before we walked inside in an attempt to not to be recognized. Standing at six-two and wearing a jersey with his name stitched across the back makes it almost impossible to hide, but I didn’t put up a fight when he took the side of the table that keeps him from facing the door.

“These food options are going to give me a heart attack.” He scans the plastic menu and flips it over, snorting when he finds the sandwich offerings. “A five-cheese grilled cheese? Christ. Hello, high cholesterol.”

“Hey. I’m not here for a long time, so I’m going to eat the foods that make me happy. That includes a massive grilled cheese and a side of fries that are better than any orgasm I’ve ever had. You know what they say: fries over guys.”

“You have my attention.” Riley looks up at me. “Maybe the wrong people have been trying to make you come.”

“Maybe.” I bite my bottom lip and smile. This feels a lot like flirting, and I’m tempted to jokingly ask if he can do better. “And wait until you taste the milkshakes. They’re nirvana.”

“I’ve always been a fan of things that are sweet,” he says, and I swear his eyes flick down my body. “Why do you think I head for the dessert table first at team dinners? The salad can wait.”

“But you’re over here complaining about grilled cheese?” I laugh. “Make it make sense, Mitchy.”

“It’s different, Armstrong.” He leans back and stretches out his legs under the table. His knee knocks against mine, and he adjusts his position so we’re not touching. I kind of liked it when we were. “The game sucked tonight, huh?”

“It wasn’t the best performance, but the wins will come. It’s going to take some time.” I study him. “How are you doing? I’m sure it wasn’t easy to watch the guys play and not be out there with them.”

“It sucks, but what can I do? This is my life now. It’s not like I’m going to heal up and join them anytime soon. I have to get used to all of this at some point, no matter how badly it’s going to hurt to watch them succeed without me.”

“Have you been doing the exercises I gave you to do at home? The extra focus is going to help speed up your recovery.”

We’re late into September, and I’ve been kicking his ass during our rehabilitation sessions. For two hours a day, five days a week over the last three weeks, I have him on the trainer’s table, running through grueling exercise after grueling exercise.

There’s been progress in some of his movements; his hip flexors and abductors are more flexible. His balance is better. He doesn’t rely on any assistive devices when he’s moving around with his prosthetic on anymore, but his residual limb is still weak. His core muscles aren’t what they used to be, and I’m afraid he’s skipping the training he’s supposed to do when he’s alone.

“No.” Riley taps the table. “I’m tired when I get home from the arena after working with you and the strength and conditioning coaches, and…” He trails off, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. “Sometimes I wonder what’s the point?”

“You’re doing a lot right now physically. Being tired is perfectly normal.” I clear my throat, switching gears. We don’t need to linger on the things he’s not doing right. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your family. You’re an only child, right?”

“Wow. Diving into the personal shit, huh?”

“I don’t have a filter and I’m curious.”

“Don’t be that curious. I’m not special. I grew up outside Chicago and went to Michigan to play hockey.”

“I love Chicago. I’ve done the marathon twice. It’s a nice city.”

“A marathon and Pilates? Do you only like sports that kick your ass? Have you tried bowling? Table tennis?”

“They make me feel invincible, and I want to be ready to fight the patriarchy if society collapses.” I pause to give my order to the server. Riley puts his in too, and I grin when he asks for the grilled cheese with extra fries. “It’s also fun to be better than men at things. Running and Pilates put everyone on an even playing field.”

“I don’t know about that. You’d kick my ass in a marathon. Even pre-injury. I suck at running.”

“Isn’t skating just running with blades on your feet? Your stamina is through the roof, which would make you good at running.”

“I have great stamina,” Riley says, and that has to be flirting. “Running is higher impact than skating. The blades absorb some of the momentum and force we’re putting on our bodies, and there’s not as much stress on your joints. I glide with my skates. Can’t do that while running. You have to take each step.”

“Skating takes a lot of skill. Balance, stability. I look like a giraffe learning to walk when I put on skates.”

“You want to talk about balance and stability? Your Pilates classes are hell. Actual hell. I think my soul leaves my body when you make us get in some of those positions. Who knew women in athleisure wear were strong enough to take over the world?”

“So, you don’t want to come to the group class I’m doing with the team the first week of November?” I tease.

“I didn’t say that.” Riley rubs a palm over his jaw. “It’s humbling. I’d like to be included even if I complain.”

“You’re welcome anytime. Even if you want to sit and watch.”

“Have you always been athletic?”

“Yeah. They’ve always been my happy place. I was a cheerleader and also played on the high school basketball team. When I went to college, I fell in love with hockey. There’s something poetic about a sport so brutal being so beautiful.”

“Where did you go to school?” he asks. “I’m guessing nowhere in Florida. Do they even have hockey down there?”

“Besides the intramural team Grant started at FSU? No. I went to the University of Minnesota.” I laugh. “It’s far from where I grew up, and I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to see what else was out there, and I ended up in the hockey capital of America. Turns out, it changed my life.”

“It’s a fun sport, isn’t it? It’s cool you like to watch it, that it’s not only a job for you. And I’m glad more women are coming to games. I know Emmy is helping with that rise in viewership. A woman playing in the NHL? It’s unheard of but fucking incredible.”

“She definitely is,” I say, proud of my best friend for breaking every glass ceiling that’s tried to cage her in. “And you can’t forget Amelia Green out in Denver. She’s an associate coach.”

“She’ll be a head coach in no time.”

“I hope so. It also helps that so many men are supportive. You have Maverick wearing Emmy’s jersey to games and incurring a fine every night for breaking the league’s dress code. Other players are repping inaugural PWHL teams.” I laugh. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been out somewhere and made a comment about a game that’s on, only for the dude I’m with to roll his eyes and accuse me of not being a real fan. It’s annoying.”

Riley frowns. “Let me guess: they’re the same ones giving you horrible orgasms.”

“What gave it away?”

“It’s not hard to spot toxic masculinity.”

“They lose their minds when I tell them I work for a professional sports team. It’s like I don’t belong in your realm. Dicks only, you know? Fuck all of us who have a vagina and like to watch people get rammed into plexiglass. Guess I need to get back to the kitchen.”

“You belong,” he says, and the edge of fierceness nudging its way into his tone makes me smile. “Do you remember what I said in the team meeting we had? You’re the best of the best at your job, and dudes who think otherwise suck. Instead of complaining about women liking things, they could open an anatomy book and figure out how to get you off.”

“Thanks for the enthusiastic support and for joining the feminist cause. We’re happy to have you.” I reach across the table and bump my knuckles with his. “Tell me something else about you, Mitchy.”

His chuckle is deep, rich, and he tosses a straw wrapper at me. “Is this a date, Armstrong?”

“God, no.” I wrinkle my nose. “No offense, but I don’t date.”

“You don’t?”

“No. It takes up too much time. There’s too much effort without any return.” I fold then unfold my napkin. “Consider this a light interrogation. I’ve spent days memorizing the shape of the mole you have on your left calf—it looks like a spade, by the way. It’s only fair you tell me something scandalous about yourself.”

There’s a moment where his cheeks turn pink. Where he opens his mouth and closes it, shaking his head once. “I don’t have anything scandalous to share.”

“Darn. I was really hoping for bodies in your closet.”

“Nope. No bodies,” Riley says around a rush of air, and my interest is piqued. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s good. Some secret I’m not sure I’ll ever get out of him but desperately want to. “I like to read on the couch. I’ve been getting into painting. I don’t go out and party. I’m boring as hell, Lex.”

“That’s a shame.”

“If you want someone cool, you’ll have to hang out with Ethan. I think he has eight different pieces of jewelry he swaps out on his dick piercing.”

I choke on a sip of water. “ Eight? ”

“That was back in May. He’s probably reached double digits at this point. I bet he’s keeping stores open with his business.”

“Wow. Okay, dick piercings aside, we’re not finished talking about you. Unless…” I arch an eyebrow. “Anything you want to share on that topic?”

“Nope. Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s fine. I guess I’ll settle on learning what superpower you wish you could have.”

“Shit. Going for the jugular.” He murmurs his thanks to the server when she delivers our food, reaches for a napkin, and sets it in his lap. “Being able to fly would be cool. Pausing time would also be handy. I could get so much shit done without losing any sleep. What about you?”

“Mind reading. But that could be a curse.” I take a bite of my grilled cheese and moan around the crunch of bread. So much better than faking an orgasm. “I have this flaw where I want to make everyone happy. If I could read their minds, I’d figure out how to do that. On the flip side, I’d probably learn things about them I don’t want to know.”

“It’s impossible to make everyone happy.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Riley hums and pulls his sandwich apart. “You have a good heart.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, my skin warming from the compliment. I’m used to being told I have nice boobs. A smackable ass and legs that fit around a guy’s head perfectly. It’s rare to hear a nice thing about something other than my body, and it’s downright confusing. “My heart is just like everyone else’s.”

“No, it’s not. I see the way you interact with guys on the team and with fans. You’re patient.” Deep lines bracket his mouth when he frowns. “You’re patient with me, even when you shouldn’t be.”

“I’m patient with you because it’s my job.” I wince when I hear how that sounds. “What I mean is you deserve to have someone who is patient with you. As for the fans, I love kids. It makes me happy to see these young boys and girls with their families at games and having a good time. My mom and I used to go to football games together when I was growing up, and those experiences with her made me who I am today.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Oh.” The question surprises me. I guess it’s only fair after asking him to tell me personal details about himself. “No. I don’t. I like other people’s children, and I’ll hang out with them all day. I love to babysit Maven’s kids and spend time with Lucy. I know I’ll feel the same when Maverick and Emmy have a baby, but I don’t want any of my own. Which goes against everything I’ve ever been told as a woman. I guess I’m just selfish.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who does what people tell her to do. That’s a good thing, by the way.” Riley pops a fry in his mouth. “And the last thing you are is selfish.”

“What do I strike you as?”

He downs a long sip of water before answering. I’m embarrassed to admit I’m on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“Self-aware, unique, and interesting,” he finally tells me.

“Interesting?” I laugh. “That’s the most neutral adjective in the world. Fish are interesting. Weather is interesting. Restaurant décor is interesting. I’m not sure I want to be interesting.”

“Okay. You’re special. Is that better?”

“You think I’m special?”

“Of course I do,” he says, and it feels like there’s a fist wrapped around my lungs. It’s squeezing tight, making it difficult to breathe. “You’re very special, Lex.”

“Well.” I pick up my sandwich, taking a big bite so I can avoid replying. One nice thing from him, and I’m giddy, like I’m attention-starved. Maybe it’s because it sounds more real coming from Riley. It’s something authentic, something honest, and not because he wants me to get him off which is what I’m so used to hearing. “Thank you.”

We continue to talk while we eat, sharing stories about our parents and our childhoods. When he mentions the time he accidentally swallowed a marble, I laugh so hard the Oreo milkshake I ordered comes out of my nose.

It’s his turn to cackle when I tell him about my spring break trip to Panama City at twenty-two that ended with me drunkenly getting a seashell inked on my hip bone because I love the beach.

It’s fun and it’s easy and it’s so different from the other times I’ve gone out with a guy recently. With them, there’s always an end goal of sex. Intimacy and bedroom compatibility are at the forefront of my mind, so it’s nice to just laugh. It’s nice to stuff my face with delicious food and not care when Riley points at the string of cheese hanging from the corner of my mouth.

“Hang on.” He leans across the table and licks his thumb. He drags his finger down my cheek then shakes his head, glee sparking behind his eyes. “There was ketchup buried under it. You have layers to your mess.”

“I’m saving it for later.” My tongue sneaks out and I lick away the trace of food. It’s not lost on me that Riley watches me the whole time. “Thanks for being a part of the cleanup crew.”

“Happy to help. This is the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he admits, his leg knocking against mine again. I feel the jut of the metal from his prosthetic, the hard shell of the socket where his residual limb sits, but I don’t make a move to pull away. “It’s been… cathartic. As cathartic as good food and good company can be. Between this and hanging out with the boys… I needed it, if that makes sense.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time rehabbing your injury and not doing things you want to do. Balance is good.”

“I’m still trying to figure out the things I want to do.”

“Let’s brainstorm.” I dig in my bag and pull out a pen. I grab an unused napkin off the table and straighten the corners. “We’ll call it Riley’s Life List.” I doodle the title at the top, adding a heart after the last word. “We can put anything on here.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah. Like skinny dipping in the Potomac or having a picnic under the cherry blossoms.”

He’s quiet for several seconds, and I’m afraid I’ve overstepped. That I’ve read this whole situation wrong, but then he puts his hands behind his head and offers me a tentative smile.

“I want to ride on the back of Ethan’s motorcycle,” he starts, and I hurry to jot it down. “I want to go on a roller coaster and scream until my throat is sore. Skinny dipping in the Potomac sounds like a death sentence with the river current, but skinny dipping in general sounds like a fucking blast. I want to… eat food that’s so spicy, it’ll make me cry. I want to get another tattoo and… fuck. I don’t know. What else? Don’t make fun of me, but I’d like to have a kiss with someone that’s so mind-blowing I can’t think straight.”

“I always knew you were a romantic. Must be all those book club meetings you guys have.” I write down everything he mentions and smile. “Anything else?”

“I want to overpay for one of those carnival games at a fair. The stupid ones where you have to toss a ring on a bottle, you know? I always thought they were so gimmicky, but now, I want to give them a shot. Guess the second chance at life thing makes me want to drop money on rigged entertainment.” Riley adjusts his glasses. “And I… I want to skate again. Not just a lap around the rink. I want to skate until my legs—leg—gives out. I want to feel the burn I used to feel when I pushed my body to the brink of exhaustion in a game.”

“These are great.” I leave space at the bottom of the napkin for him to add more if another idea comes to him. “There better be pictures of the skinny dipping when it happens.”

“When you get a random picture of my ass, you’ll know what it’s for.”

I laugh and cap the pen. “I can’t wait.”

“Are you going to tell me what would be on your list? Seems only fair since I just revealed some of my deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Riding on a motorcycle is not a secret. I want to do it too, but, fine. Let’s see.” I tap my cheek, deep in thought about my dreams and wishes. “I’d like to open my own Pilates studio. I like where I am now, but I’d love to have full creative control to design classes for athletes and people with disabilities. Skinny dipping sounds fun. I want to drive out to the middle of nowhere and watch a shooting star go by.”

“Now who’s the romantic?” Riley smirks. “I’m surprised, Ms. Independent.”

“I didn’t say I needed a man there with me. My best friends are better than any dude.” I move my nearly empty plate away and put my elbow on the table. “I don’t know. Being kissed until I can’t think straight sounds nice. I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“I feel like you need to add good orgasms to your list. You’re missing out on a world of fun, Lex.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in my face, Mr. Satisfied.” It’s my turn to throw something, and he dodges out of the way from the rogue fry I lob at him. “What’s it like to have never been disappointed?”

“Pretty great, actually.” Riley laughs. “Fuck. My therapist is going to be proud of me. This is the most I’ve talked to someone in ages.”

“It’s because I’m so interesting, isn’t it?”

There’s a flash of something dark behind his gaze. His eyes turn a shade I haven’t seen before, but he blinks it away before I have a chance to characterize it.

“You’re a smart-ass is what you are,” he says.

“Oh, I definitely am. A proud one at that.”

“Thanks for the company tonight, Lexi. I wasn’t in the best mood when I got to the arena, but I’m better now.”

“I’m happy to help. It’s a long road, Mitchy, but you’re not on it alone.”

“I know.” Riley pulls out his wallet and drops four twenties on the table. He bats my hand away when I try to put my credit card on top of the cash. “You’re a good friend.”

“We’re just getting started, pal.” I grin at him, afraid to admit this might be the most fun I’ve ever had with a guy. “I’m going to be the best friend you’ve ever had.”